Blood in the Sand
by iamaturtleduckhearmeroar
Summary: John has tried to keep his life together since his return. However, he brought back much more than physical scars. Can a part time druggie/part time consulting detective help him? PTSD. Johnlock. John is younger than Sherlock in this. John is in Med school while Sherlock is off galavanting around the city.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Well here's my contribution to the Johnlock ship. There's going to be quite a bit of angst in later chapters so prepare yourselves! **

The people spilled out of the corridor; Couples, families, business men and women, elderly people returning from an exotic trip. And the young man with the cane. They all laughed and pretended that they didn't noticed him but their brief whispers and hesitant looks made him glare darkly at the ground and continue his unbalanced walk to the atrium of the airport. He knew what they were thinking.

Broken. Soldier. Too young. Scarred. Shattered.

He set his shoulders and huffed as he picked up his small back pack from the baggage claim, his shoulder twinged, the ripped muscle complaining at his sudden activity. He winced and rubbed the aching wound lightly. The doctor had told him to stay in Kabul, let himself heal a little more before going back, but he hadn't listened, he needed to get his life together. And sitting in a hospital was not in the plans. The thunk of the cane on the ground preceded his own step all the way to the front doors of the airport.

A smirk graced his face as he saw the slushy rain and snow mixture that was falling from the English sky. Typical.

He spotted a row of benches off to the side and made his way over, letting out a contented sigh as he sat down all but chucking his bag on the ground. "JOHNNYYY!" He jolted up, his eyes widening and every nerve standing on edge, images of sand and blood taking the place of the shiny, clean airport. Arms closed around his body and he stiffened, blinking his eyes rapidly, ridding them of images of hell. His sister was holding him tightly.

"Hi, Harry."

She stood back, "Hi? HI? That's all you've got to say? Scared me and Clara half to death Johnny! Hiii..." she said sarcastically. Her face softened though and she pulled him back into her arms, "I missed you, John. When they called I was-I thought- I'm just glad you are okay."

His smile dropped off his face as he buried it into the comfort of her shoulder, he wouldn't tell her, she didn't need to know. He put the smile back on his face as she picked up his bag and led him to the car waiting outside. She helped him get situated and placed his bag on the seat next to him. He stared out the window, the scenery flashing by in an indistinguishable blur as she took him to the flat she and her girlfriend Clara shared in the center of London. He pulled the backpack over and started shuffling through the papers inside.

There, at the very bottom, sat his acceptance letter to university. The acceptance letter to his future.

**Thank you for reading! Please leave reviews so I can improve my writing. **


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock Holmes was not a morning person. In fact, he was not an any time of the day person. However, being that it was currently 3am and he was stuck in what seemed to be an endless line of insomniacs and people just getting off the night shift that had all gotten together and plotted to invade the coffee shop, HIS coffee shop he corrected mentally, he was considered a non morning person. He tapped his foot impatiently, head ache growing as the last remnants of his high dropped him down into the abyss. He glared at the gum cracking college girl working the counter and wished on her a violent and timely death. He could kill these people without getting caught...he just nee- the bell rang out suddenly and he heard fast but uneven footsteps (psychosomatic) dart from the door forward and he caught a flash of blonde hair as a small boy darted by. His face screwed up in fury but then relaxed somewhat when he noted the cafe's apron flapping loosely out of his messenger bag. The boy slid behind the counter and immediately started taking the orders of the somewhat irate customers. He was much quicker than the gum cracker and pretty soon Sherlock was face to face with the late arrival. His nametag said "John", weren't all baristas supposed to have cool names, he thought. "I apologize for the wait! What can I get you, mate?" Sherlock snorted and large, dark blue eyes met his with a confused look. "You apologize for the wait as if you were doing something important. Snogging with your boyfriend is not an acceptable excuse for me not receiving my coffee in a timely manner. I hope you tell him so you will be better prepared and on time in the future. Extra large, black. And a chocolate muffin." The barista's eyes widened and a blush had covered the tips of his ears in a brilliant red. He sputtered and glared at Sherlock, "H-how did you know that? I apologized and that's not very polite to assume anything about my love life when I don't even know you!" Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Oh but I know quite a bit about you. You're a first year medical student based on the level one basic anatomy book hanging out of your bag. Must be at St. Barts because that's the only hospital within running distance. You work multiple jobs. I know this because when you pulled out your wallet to find your name tag there were two other pay stubs that were not for this establishment. And as for knowing about the snogging...your lips are swollen and a rather impressive hickey is showing up on your neck but there's no trace of lipstick and your phone is also open with a text from "James 3"." Sherlock drew an exaggerated heart in the air and folded his arms to stare moodily at the man (he was in med school so not a boy) waiting for the usual phrase he received whenever he did that. "That...that...that was brilliant!" Sherlock's head snapped up to see a smiling and wide eyed man in front of him, "R-really?" The other nodded enthusiastically, "That was all correct! That's crazy! It was like magic or something!" Sherlock let a small smirk grace his features and a chuckle escaped his mouth, "Yes. Though I'd love to talk about how amazing I am, I really must be going." The barista nodded and flushed in embarrassment before scrambling to fix Sherlock's order. He signed the receipt quickly and handed the drink and muffin to the tall, thin man. "Thank you...John." The shorter man smiled, "No problem! Wait what's your name? Just in case you come in again!" Sherlock took a sip of his drink and pulled up his collar to ward off the cool night outside, "It's Sherlock." And left the coffee shop.

A/N: ANND THEY MEET! Well here's the second chapter after a lot of waiting! Please review and John will give you muffins too! He baked them especially for Johnlock fans!


	3. Chapter 3

He hadn't been expecting Jim to wait for him outside work. He also hadn't been expecting him to attack him like that in public. The Irishman was very conscious about how rough he was outside their flat but apparently the stress had gotten to him this time. Jim's "work" often led to him being this way.

John let out a shuddering breath and rolled his aching shoulders as he walked back to the flat. He had woken up at three that morning to head to his job at the small diner down the street from their residence and then he had to run to the bus stop to make his classes at the hospital in time, then after his classes he had arrived at the bar where he worked in record time and then came his rather unfortunate meeting with his boyfriend which resulted in him being late to his job at the coffee shop. His entire body felt heavy with exhaustion, his limp acting up a little more than usual, and his shoulder pulsating with pain. A small, tired smile graced his features though: it had been pay day.

He quickly stopped in the Tescos a few blocks away and picked up some easily prepared food for the week ahead. Now laden with even more bags, he continued on his way.

The entire lavish apartment building was dark but for the penthouse; the top floor was blazing with light and another, larger weight settled on John's shoulders.

Jim was still up.

A cold, gnawing fear grew to grip John's insides, an icy chill that made his stomach clench and his hands tremble. He reached the door and fumbled around in his bag to find the key, when he did he went to put it in the lock but it fell to the ground with a small metal sound. He squeezed his shaking hands together and took a few calming breaths. He bent with some difficulty due to his leg but finally retrieved the key and opened the door. A look was cast between the stairs and the elevator but the twinging of his leg made it apparent that he could not make it up those stairs. The elevator dinged at every floor; since moving in he had grown to dread that sound, that small, harmless sound that took him closer and closer to whatever waited him at the top floor. The doors opened and John stepped into the clinically decorated flat; loud music was playing and take out containers littered the floors. He took a tentative step inside and heard giggling. Female giggling.

All his fear dissipated to be replaced by anger. His jaw clenched and he walked into the living room to find Jim tangled up with Irene on the couch. _At least they're wearing clothes this time, _he thought bitterly. Jim ripped his mouth away from Irene's and smirked at John before violently shoving the woman onto the floor. The scent of expensive cologne and Irene's disgusting perfume filled John's senses as he was engulfed in his boyfriend's arms.

"Johnny! I was waiting for you!" he turned to glare at Irene with dead eyes and barked, "You're no longer needed. Get out." Her face lit up in rage but she grabbed her shoes and stomped out of the flat, slamming the door for emphasis. Jim's lips landed on his in a possessive way and John pulled away, repulsed by how easily he could be cast aside. He pushed Jim's arms away and went to put away the groceries in the kitchen.

"Awww, love, don't be that way! She's just here to keep me company! If you didn't work so much then she wouldn't always be here!"

John slammed the box of tea he had been about to put away on the counter and whipped around and got up into Jim's face, "I. Am. Your. Boyfriend! She shouldn't be here ever! Regardless of whether or not I'm at work! That's not how this relationship is supposed to work!"

Jim's eyes darkened and his hands whipped out to clasp John's wrists in a bruising hold, "May I remind you that I am the one paying for your schooling. If you would like I could cut you loose from our little deal and let you go off and drown in the debt. Would you like that, John? You OWE me. I don't care if you don't like me having sex outside this "relationship". I don't care that you have to work three jobs. You will pay back every cent to me. Speaking of which, where is it?"

John stiffened in his hold and looked down at the ground. "Where is what?" he whispered.

The slap sent his head reeling and he fell to the ground, clutching the reddened area with a trembling hand. Jim stood over him, his dark eyes resembling endless pools of black, his face twisted into a grotesque smile. He knelt down next to John and stroked his cheek, "You made me do that. You make me hurt you like this because you won't listen to me. I'm trying to help you. Get you on the right path to becoming a doctor. I keep away the demons, don't I? I protect you, don't I?" John nodded into the cold hand, his eyes blank and unseeing.

He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out the pay stubs. Jim ripped them from his hand and planted a painful kiss on his abused face. "Let's go to bed, yeah?" John nodded again and let Jim guide him to the room.

He couldn't say no. He never could.


End file.
